


'Cause With You I'm Like An Animal

by OldandKinky



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dogs, Established Relationship, Jaskier fucks dogs, Knotting, M/M, Monsterfucker Jaskier | Dandelion, Other, Overstimulation, Sloppy Seconds, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldandKinky/pseuds/OldandKinky
Summary: There I was, just minding my business, and then nearly 3k words of dog fucking happened.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 179





	'Cause With You I'm Like An Animal

**Author's Note:**

> There I was, just minding my business, and then nearly 3k words of dog fucking happened.

It's not like Geralt planned any of this. Fuck, he never even  _ thought _ about it. Sure, he knew that there are people who did this. He's heard people say often enough, "That man looks like he fucks dogs".

He never thought, even for a second, that he'd ever witness the whole thing. Let alone participate, in a sense.

They made camp somewhere in the woods of Velen, finding one of the not too swampy spots to put down their bedrolls. Jaskier crawled into his lap, practically begging him for a nice hard fuck, and Geralt had been happy to oblige.

Jaskier hadn't even undressed fully, literally just shoved down the seat of his trousers and got onto all fours. Three fingers and a whole lot of oil later, Geralt sunk balls deep into him, making the bard sing his favourite song, the clearing echoing with gasps and moans and cries for, "Please,  _ please _ harder, Geralt!"

He's embarrassed to admit it but it had taken him a long time to notice them, too caught up in the velvet heat of Jaskier's arse, in his sweet sounds. When he does, it's a shock to look up and see the fire light reflecting in inhuman eyes. He falters, his hips slowing, and Jaskier makes a noise of complaint.

"Geralt, wha-" He lifts his head from where he had his face shoved into his bedroll, and Geralt knows when he sees them, because the bard gasps and then tightens almost painfully around his cock. "Geralt, are those…?" His voice trembles, but  _ not _ with fear.

"Wild dogs," Geralt answers quietly, and Jaskier shivers. Now that he concentrates, he doesn't know how he ever missed them. There's six of them, big beasts that stare at them from the darkness.

That stare at  _ Jaskier _ .

"What… What do you think they want?" The bard is still on all fours, hasn't moved. Neither has Geralt, still inside the man's tight arse. The air is heavy with arousal, with pheromones, and Geralt knows exactly what they want.

They're young, he thinks, young males kicked out of their packs who formed their own until they find suitable females. Bachelors, he thinks with a flicker of amusement. Their eyes remain intent on Jaskier, their tongues lolling and their tails wagging, and when Geralt adjusts his grip on the bard's hips and pulls back slowly, when Jaskier trembles and moans, their ears prick up.

"You know what they want," he says in a low voice, and Jaskier keens as his head drops onto the bedroll again.

"What?  _ Tell me _ ."

Geralt takes his time, fucking Jaskier slowly now, infuriatingly slowly. One of the dogs tilts his head and steps forward, curious. His nose twitches. "They want what I have," he says quietly, pushing deep into the bard's body, and Jaskier's moan is filthy and filled with longing.

" _ Geralt- _ "

"Do you want that, Jask? You sound like you want that.  _ Feel _ like you want that."

Jaskier trembles all over, and Geralt can smell his pre-come, leaking into his trousers. "Fuck, Geralt, that's  _ filthy _ ."

"You didn't answer my question." He fucks into him faster, harder, the slap of skin against skin loud in the quiet of the night. The dogs shift restlessly, pacing along the edge of the clearing. Jaskier moans, whimpers, rocks back into Geralt's thrusts.

"I- I can't-"

" _ Answer me _ ," he commands, and Jaskier clenches down hard around him. It's almost painful.

" _ Yes _ ," comes the gasped reply, "yes, I  _ want it, _ but fuck, Geralt, it's wrong, it's disgusting, I  _ shouldn't _ want it."

Geralt curls around the bard's back, holds him in place. "Who's going to find out?"

Jaskier jolts, and keens, and then he tightens around Geralt's cock as he comes with a cry. The dogs are getting agitated, letting out excited yips at the display, and there's a certain dark satisfaction curling in Geralt's stomach, an animalistic sense of ownership.

_ Look at the bitch _ , it says,  _ look at him down on his knees for me. Look at us, and envy me. _

The thought is stupid, irrational, downright insane. They're just dogs. Stupid animals.

And yet.

The emotion is so strong, so primal and powerful, that he is swept away with it. He grabs Jaskier by the hips and fucks him roughly, lips curling back from his teeth as he pants and groans. Jaskier's hands curl into the bedroll as he whimpers, as he lets himself be used.

"Fuck, Jaskier, I'll-"

"Do it," Jaskier gasps, "do it, fuck me full, breed me, Geralt, make me your bitch- aah!"

Geralt does. He hammers into Jaskier a few more times until he pumps his guts full of his seed, roaring at the sky, and there's fire in his veins as he stares up at the stars.

Under him, Jaskier gasps and whines, arse clenching around his cock. "Geralt…" It's thin, and needy, and Geralt sucks in a breath.

He was prepared to put the whole idea down to the heat of the moment, a feverish thought cooked up by a lust drunk brain. Jaskier seems to disagree. His hands are twitching restlessly, and he's staring at the dogs again. One of them has crept closer, almost close enough to touch, and Jaskier does just that, he reaches out a hand and the dog leans in and sniffs at his fingers.

Jaskier shakes like a leaf as he whispers, "Geralt,  _ please _ ."

It feels like a dream, in a way. It can't be real, or at least it doesn't seem that way. He has never before considered it, and now his lover is begging him to help him get fucked by a pack of dogs.

Then again, he's a Witcher. He's used to all sorts of weird shit happening to him. This doesn't even rank at the top of the list.

Still. "Are you really sure, Jaskier?"

The bard is still holding his hand out to the dog, who has progressed from sniffing at his fingers to licking them. Jaskier is transfixed. "I'm so fucking sure," he murmurs.

It's a blur, and in razor sharp focus at the same time. He slides out of Jaskier with a groan, seed and oil spilling out of the bard. He's dripping, really, and the thought that, when this is over, there will be so much more inside the man almost has Geralt growing hard again right there. He tugs at Jaskier's rim with two fingers and pours more oil straight into him for good measure.

"Don't want you to get hurt," he murmurs, and Jaskier mewls in pleasure.

He sits at Jaskier's head, takes hold of his hands, and only a few moments later the first dog is brave enough to come closer. It's the same one who had licked Jaskier's fingers. He's clearly wary of Geralt, recognising the superior predator, but he wastes no time moving between Jaskier's legs to nose at his arse.

Jaskier jerks at the first touch, gasps a startled laugh. "Fuck, I forgot about cold nos- _ aah _ !"

The dog is licking him, Geralt realises, that broad tongue lapping at the bard's balls and over his hole, and Geralt grips his hands tighter. "What does it feel like," he breathes, eyes fixed on Jaskier's face.

"Hnn, weird. It's-  _ fucking cock- _ It's so much. So  _ different _ ." His brow is furrowed, his lips parted, and he smells so strongly of arousal that it makes Geralt dizzy.

The dog laps at him only a few more times, and then he seems to deem the human ready. He rears up, mounts Jaskier, his front legs grabbing the bard's waist, and Jaskier yelps as the dog jumps forward.

"Fuck! Pointy! That's apparently a thing. Learn something new every-  _ Fuck _ !"

Geralt doesn't need to see. He knows the dog has hit its target, has sunk its cock into the bard. He has seen enough dogs mate to think he knows what to expect, and to an extent he does. He knows how frantically dogs fuck, how they clamp their legs around the bitch to stop her from escaping their brutal pace.

Seeing his lover being bred by a dog that way hits him like a punch to the gut.

Jaskier screams and whines as the dog pounds into him, his nails digging into Geralt's hands as he holds on for dear life, and the Witcher couldn't look away if a fucking royal wyvern crashed into the clearing right behind him. The look on Jaskier's face is caught somewhere between pain and overwhelming, mind-bending pleasure, and the sounds coming from his throat are more raw and animalistic than Geralt has ever heard from him.

It doesn't take all that long. The dog hammers into the bard for a few minutes, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, dripping slobber all over Jaskier's chemise, and then all of a sudden Jaskier gives a screech that makes Geralt's ears pop. It takes his brain a second to realise - the dog just shoved its knot into the bard. It stops its frantic pistoning, grinding deeply against the bard's behind with little twitches of its hips, and Jaskier gasps and moans and scratches at Geralt's trousers.

"Fuckfuckfuck, Geralt,  _ what's happening?!" _

Geralt stares. He can't  _ stop _ staring. The dog keeps humping forward every so often, staring back at him with eyes that are both far too intelligent and too vacant. "He knotted you," he says quietly, "he's  _ breeding _ you, Jaskier."

The bard groans, fingers digging hard into Geralt's legs. "I can't believe this is happening," he says, breathlessly, and then he laughs. There's an edge of hysteria to it, and Geralt looks down at him. Jaskier's eyes are closed, jaw tight and teeth bared, but he isn't really tense.

He's taking what he's being given.

After another moment of the dog grinding into Jaskier, the animal hops down, and Jaskier yelps as the animal throws a leg over him, turning until they're arse to arse. The bard whimpers at every tug of the knot at his rim, and now Geralt can't resist. He reaches along the line of Jaskier's back and pushes a hand between his cheeks. The dog's tail brushes against his hand, his arm, as he finds Jaskier's stretched rim, and then…

"Gods," he breathes, and Jaskier keens again. The knot is big, far bigger than he thought it would be. He can't smell blood so Jaskier probably didn't tear but the thought of something that big being shoved into his lover's hole is just outrageous. He can't make sense of it.

The tie doesn't hold for long, maybe five minutes at most. The dog whines and pulls, and Jaskier yelps when its cock pops out. "Oh sweet goddess," he gasps, his thighs shaking.

"Are you alright?"

The bard pries open one eye to look up at Geralt. He smiles, looking a bit drunk. "More than, actually." He shivers, his eye falling closed again. "Fuck, I can't believe I never did that before."

Geralt looks around the clearing. The dog who just fucked Jaskier - and gods, that is a sentence he never thought he'd ever have to put together - has trudged off to the trees, laying down to lick itself clean, and the implications of that send a fresh wave of lust surging through Geralt. "Nor can I," he murmurs, watching the rest of the pack. "How do you feel," he asks softly, and Jaskier chuckles.

"Honestly? Filthy. Exquisitely so." He shudders. "Feel wide open."

Geralt… twitches. His hand moves of its own accord, curves around the swell of Jaskier's arse. He only comes back to himself when his fingertips touch the bard's puffy rim. " _ Jaskier… _ "

The bard hums, and Geralt's fingers dip inside.

_ Fuck _ .

Jaskier is a mess. He's soft and, yes, wide open, slick with oil and Geralt's and the dog's seed, and Geralt hardly knows what to do with himself. Before he knows it, he says, "There are five more."

Jaskier shudders, a full-body motion accompanied by a loud groan, and then he hisses, " _ Yes _ ."

What follows is like a fever dream. One dog after the other mounts Jaskier with very little coaxing, fucking load after load into him, knotting him over and over. He comes twice during that, crying from overstimulation by the third. By the fourth, Jaskier's voice is almost gone, and when Geralt reaches behind him to check for injuries, he finds the bard's hole so wet and gaping that four of his fingers just sink into him without resistance.

_ They're going to ruin him _ , he thinks as the next dog creeps closer, a big beast even he would probably try and avoid unless he had no choice. The thought that it's about to fuck Jaskier makes his mind go blank.

Jaskier is entirely fucked out by this point, and he only whimpers when the dog mounts him. His body is rocked against Geralt's with every thrust of the animal's hips, breathy little moans falling from his lips even as his muscles shake, tired from having to hold himself up for so long. The dog's paws dig into Jaskier's thighs, holding him tight, and when it forces its knot into the bard, Jaskier tosses his head, his back arching, and then he comes yet again with a strangled sound.

When all is said and done and the pack has slunk off into the trees again, Geralt sits there for a very long moment, cradling the barely conscious bard against this chest and wondering if he's dreaming.

"G'ralt…"

Jaskier's voice pulls him back to the here and now, and he looks down at his lover. The bard is covered in sweat and seed, and his eyes are unfocused as he blinks up Geralt. "I'm here, lark. Are you alright?"

"Hmm." He shifts slightly, hisses. " _ Fuck _ ."

"Lie down, let me clean you up." He guides Jaskier onto his stomach on the bedroll, and his breath catches when he gets his first real look.

Jaskier looks like he has been fucked by a whole Nilfgaardian battalion. His rim is red and swollen, slick with the dogs' seed, and Geralt stares and stares. Jaskier shifts, and there's a huff of laughter.

"Come on, wolf," Jaskier murmurs, looking back af him with heavy-lidded eyes, "stake your claim. Can't have those mutts have the last word."

Seeing Jaskier like this is almost enough to make him lose his mind, but combined with those words? Geralt is just gone. He grabs the bard by the hips with a snarl, pulls him up to his knees, and it only takes a moment to fumble open his laces and sink himself into Jaskier's loose, fucked out hole to the root.

"Gods, Jaskier-"

The bard gurgles, his hands twitching. "Go on, take what's yours."

There's a roaring in his ears, and his body moves entirely without his permission. It's filthy, the sound almost stomach turning, loud in the silence of the clearing. Jaskier moans brokenly as Geralt ruts into him, fast and deep, and Geralt curls around him, pressing his face against the bard's neck.

"Fuck, Jaskier, you feel-  _ Shit _ ."

"Are you gonna mark me, wolf?"

Geralt's vision whites out as he comes, deep inside Jaskier, and before he can think better of it, his teeth sink into the man's shoulder. He gets a mouthful of fabric for his trouble but it doesn't matter, he just has to bite down  _ harder _ to mark his mate and-

Jaskier whines, loudly, and Geralt tastes blood, and that brings him back into his body with a vengeance. He let's go of the bard's shoulder, staring at the red spreading, at the indentations his teeth have left in the fabric.

"Jaskier-"

"Don't you dare apologise. I don't want to hear it. I've just had the fuck of a lifetime and you will not ruin that for me with your stupid guilt."

It's absurd, all of it. He's still inside Jaskier, who smells more like dog than himself, with his blood on his tongue, and again Jaskier is reassuring him.

He pulls out, slowly, carefully. Jaskier winces and shifts, and Geralt flops down onto the ground next to him with a grunt. "How do we always end up in these situations?"

Jaskier smirks. "Poor impulse control?" The Witcher huffs a laugh at that, and Jaskier's smile softens. "I… I want to thank you."

Geralt strokes the bard's cheek gently. "What for?"

"For indulging me. Again. I was… I didn't think you'd go along with it." He looks away, embarrassed, and Geralt leans closer.

"There is very little I wouldn't go along with for you, Jaskier."

Now it's Jaskier's turn to stare, and his eyes grow misty. "Oh, you wonderful, marvelous man."

They fall asleep curled around each other, later, after Geralt has actually cleaned the bard up, has gently rubbed ointment into his abused arse. Jaskier snuggles into his side with a happy hum, and Geralt holds him close.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://oldandkinky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
